


Roses and Broomsticks

by VampireHydeFTW



Category: Malice Mizer, Versailles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3504809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireHydeFTW/pseuds/VampireHydeFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a group of bullies attack him outside the Witch's house, Yuu is terrfied how the Witch might react to his crushed flowers. They were his pride and joy, except the witch that left the house wasn't the old man that the town was afraid of. This new witch was young and aristocratic and Yuu can't resist the invite into his world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses and Broomsticks

“What's the matter, fag,” the lead ringer of the group challenged. “Will your face melt without painting it on?”

“It's just concealer,” Yuu tried to explain. He used it for covering up the odd spot and a birthmark on his neck, it was hardly the same as wearing full make-up. The problem was, when it really came down to it, these kids didn't like his pretty face, long hair and the small fact they had caught him admiring a poster of a male movie star. He was gay and had been bullied most of his teenage years because of it. Even now he was an adult, just about, he was still getting bullied for just being himself. It wasn't like he acted like a girl in any aspect, he wanted to be a mechanic and worked as an apprentice in a garage. A masculine, manly career, around manly, masculine men who didn't like anyone even remotely feminine amongst them. Except off course the girls they used and abandoned like last nights left over dinner.

“Shut up, nobody cares what you have to say.” a particularly violent guy snarled at him, shoving Yuu hard against a wall. Just like that, the words became punches and instinctively Yuu lifted his arms to protect his face. It hurt every time they did this, but he could handle the pain. Don't cry out, don't fight back, they would get bored and go away.

A violent shove sent him falling backwards, landing in the tight space between two rose bushes. His skin stung from the thorns, long gashes opening up across his arms and legs. They'd gone to far this time, they never usually left a mark.

“Dude, that's The Witch's place.” one of the kids remarked scared. The Witch? Yuu thought, shuddering as he realised where he must be. They had been near the old house at the edge of town. A silent imposing building set on a small patch of land. He'd never seen past the front, nobody had, the rose bushes a beautiful but foreboding warning that only a fool would take a step closer. They were the owners pride and joy, Jasmine remembered, and here he was lying in the middle of two crushed bushes.

The pain was quickly forgotten by the fear that clutched his heart. If he got caught here, what would the owner do? He didn't believe in magic and witchcraft, but he had a strong belief in the danger of angry men.

“What are you kids doing?” an angry voice shouted out from the front door. Jasmine shuddered and tried to pull himself out of the bush as the other kids ran away. He heard a tear of cloth, he must have damaged his own clothes, but he was still somewhat stuck. The man was on him now, but he was looking down the street, his anger like a tangible blanket over the scene.

He could have chased after the other boys, Yuu thought as the man turned to face him. Why was he the one left to face his anger? He had been the victim! This wasn't fair, but then very little of his life was.

“Here, let me help you up.” the man offered, his voice gentle and kind. Surprised Yuu accepted the hand, wincing in pain as he was pulled to his feet. He hurt all over but that didn't stop him admiring this man. He wasn't The Witch, he was far too young, perhaps about five years older than himself, with shoulder length dark hair and eyes that could steal his soul if he looked into them too long. He blushed, hoping this stranger would think it was his predicament and not his emotions turning his cheeks red.

“I'm sorry, I damaged your flowers.” Yuu apologised.

“Did you?” the man asked, sounding surprised. “From my perspective you were pushed by those pathetic bullies. Am I wrong?”

“No.” Yuu confessed, embarrassed that this aristocratic man had seen him at his worse. He didn't seem to be judging him though, his demeanour showed only kindness.

“Come inside, I'll clean those wounds.” the man offered and nervously Yuu followed, his heart racing in his chest. He didn't even know this man and given the reputation of the man who lived here, he should be scared senseless.

 

“What's your name?” the man asked as he sat Yuu down on one of his kitchen chairs, made from engraved oak.

“Yuu.” he replied.

“Yuu, who smells of roses?” the man teased. “Surely you should have a more flowery name.”

“I only smell of roses because I fell in the bush.” Yuu protested. “Normally I smell of motor oil I'd guess. I work in a garage.”

“Yes, I know.” the man confirmed. “My name is Klaha, I only moved to town recently but I couldn't help but notice you.”

“Have we met?” Yuu asked surprised. Surely he would remember if he'd seen Klaha before?

“Not as such.” Klaha replied. “But I know you're brave enough to enter a witches home.”

“You're no witch.” Yuu replied laughing, Klaha couldn't be serious.

“I am, as was my Father who owned this house until just recently.” Klaha said, his voice full of sincerity, but how could what he was saying be possibly true? Sure he was teasing, or possibly testing him? Yuu just smiled and watched Klaha as he poured some kind of ointment on his skin. It smelt like a herb garden after a summer shower, he couldn't recognise a single scent though. It felt nice on his skin, though it did sting where it hit a cut.

“Jasmine.” Klaha commented making Yuu pause. Was he telling him what was in the salve?

“Is that what this is?” Yuu asked.

“No, it's what you are.” Klaha replied. “Jasmine, yes that name suits you.”

“It's a girls name.” Yuu protested, Klaha clearly had taken leave of his senses, but as the salve was wiped of his skin he suspected he might have done so too. “I'm healed.”

“Off course, what good is a witch who can't heal?” Klaha questioned. His tone such that it made Jasmine feel foolish for asking the question. Was this a dream? As crazy as things were, he couldn't help but think it just might be.

“Witches are old, ugly women who cast wicked spells.” Yuu protested. “What has healing got to do with it?”

“Everything.” Klaha replied. “I'm going to put that comment down to your ignorance and let it slide. Please don't say such fowl, racist and sexist comments under this roof again.”

“You really think you're a witch don't you?” Yuu asked. In response Klaha gently lay some salve on Yuu's exposed lower arms. It healed off course, magic, which meant Klaha truly had power. Unsure if he was staying out of curiosity, or fear of what might happen to him if he didn't keep Klaha happy, Yuu stayed still. Silently watching Klaha heal his wounds and allowed him to remove the clothes over his chest to get a look at the bruising the beating had caused. There was a different mixture for his chest, as blue as the sky on a warm summer's day. It felt even nicer against his skin than the potion from before, healing the bruising and seeping into his chest as if to revive him. Yuu had never felt as healthy as he did now, and it was all thanks to Klaha.

“Those boys, do they do things like this to you often?” Klaha asked as he handed Yuu back his clothes. He'd been keen to take them off him, Yuu noticed, not so keen to help him put that back on. Perhaps he was just projecting his own feelings onto Klaha? As terrifying as he was, Yuu couldn't help but feel attracted to this handsome, strong and kind man who had never once shown any signs that he had any motivation for inviting him in, other than to help him.

“Sometimes.” Yuu admitted. I didn't want to tell Klaha about the regular beatings, the way even the sanctuary of his work had become under threat, how he was weak and powerless when it came to defending himself. He wanted Klaha to admire him, in the way that he admired him, but that wasn't about to happen any time soon. He just wasn't strong, or powerful or quick enough with words to avoid trouble. He wasn't masculine either, in looks or personality, too gentle, too soft spoken and too much a pacifist. He wanted to fix things, make the world better one engine at a time, not show of to other men.

“I can make them stop.” Klaha informed Yuu. “If you give me their names.”

“So you can,” Yuu began, stopping himself from accusing Klaha of cursing them. Klaha had took offence once already at the suggestion that witches were wicked and bad. “How would you stop them?”

“I have my ways, nothing lethal, nothing like what they deserve. They'll stay away from you, if you accept my offer?” Klaha said, a smile on his lips, as if he already knew the offer was far to tempting for Yuu to not accept.

“You want something in return?” Yuu asked, off course this offer wouldn't come for free.

“My sweet Jasmine, now you mention it there is one thing you can do for me.” Klaha replied, stating his terms, delighted when Yuu only hesitated for a moment before saying yes.

 

For the first time in years, Yuu was able to celebrate his birthday without fear. Klaha had done as promised, the bullies backing away from him one by one until not one person in town would utter even a clever insult towards him. He didn't know what Klaha had done to keep them away but it was like they were afraid of upsetting him. Afraid that their actions would get back to the witch perhaps? Klaha hadn't hurt a single hair on any of their heads, but the whole town knew that they were friends. Knew he regularly entered the manor and that he was under Klaha's protection. Perhaps, the fear of the witch in the house on the hill, was enough to keep even the most vicious men away from him?

“Jasmine?” Klaha called out as he entered the witch's home. He spent more time here than his own lately and no longer saw the name 'Jasmine' as anything but his own. He now understood why Klaha called him that, what it was that Klaha wanted in return for his kindness. It no longer felt like an obligation to him and Jasmine fitted him a lot better than Yuu ever had.

“It's me.” Jasmine called into the house, smiling in anticipation for what Klaha had planned. Even today, his birthday of all days, Klaha still expected him to fulfil his part of their agreement. He didn't mine though, not when it meant he could be close to the witch once again.

Placing his bag beneath the stairs Jasmine headed up to where he knew Klaha would be waiting, the camera set up in a corner though they wouldn't be using it today. The day he had learnt the witch was also an artist he had been surprised to say the least, but Klaha was right. Why couldn't a witch and an artist be one in the same? Surely witchcraft was closer to art than any other past time Klaha could have partook in.

This was all part of the deal, to be Klaha's model for his portraits. The camera saved him the long hours of sitting still that would have happened in the past, but even so he still found himself posing as Klaha got his image just right. He'd seen the two portraits that had already been drawn of him, his own beauty taking his breath away. This wasn't what was reflected in the mirror, this was the version of himself reflected through Klaha's eyes. Seeing these pictures had given him hope that his affections weren't just directed one way, but sexual attraction and admiration of beauty weren't always the same thing and he'd been too shy to test the others feelings towards him.

“I should be done with this one today. Just an hour or so.” Klaha promised, apologetic that they were doing this today. Jasmine couldn't think of anything better to do, this wasn't just his time with Klaha, the time when they were most connected, it was also the time when he could really relax.

“It's OK, take your time.” Jasmine replied as Klaha approached. Closing his eyes he felt the familiar hands slipping under his T-shirt and pulling it over his head. He wore what Klaha asked him to wear during these times, and always Klaha wanted to dress him himself. He felt like a doll, but a cherished and loved one, there was close to nothing he wouldn't allow the witch to do him. If only Klaha would undress him for another purpose, then his life would be perfect.

Once stripped to his underwear Jasmine allowed Klaha to dress him in a beautiful black and green dress. He'd worn this dress before, many times as Klaha worked on this particular picture, and he knew without looking that the dress was a work of art in itself.

Next came hair and make-up, both expertly done by Klaha himself and taking close to two hours before he was satisfied the look was complete. Jasmine didn't need to look in the mirror to know he looked gorgeous, but he glanced at his reflection anyway and smiled before sitting by the window as he had done before. Even his positioning wasn't right until Klaha had perfected everything down to the last strand of hair. Settling himself down for a long wait Jasmine wondered if he'd ever be anything more to Klaha than what he was now.

 

“I think I'm done.” Klaha said as he stared over the canvas. Jasmine knew better than to move just yet, his lips turning up into a smile as a few more adjustments were made before Klaha was finally happy. Everything had to be right with him, right down to the most minute features. Sensing Klaha was actually done now, Jasmine got up and went to look at the finished piece for the very first time.

“It's stunning.” Jasmine said as he stared at the piece of art. The last two had taken his breath away, but this one was better than the two of them combined. Was this how Klaha saw him? This beautiful? This stunning? Like some kind of ethereal creature of beauty and light? If it was, if this was how Klaha felt...

Trapped in the moment Jasmine placed his lips over Klaha's. This was what he wanted, this was what they both wanted. He couldn't have read it wrong, the portrait lay out Klaha's soul like an open book. He expected Klaha to kiss him back, he didn't expect to be pinned against the wall as the other dominate his body inside and out with just his mouth. Desperately Jasmine clung onto him, weak against such a strong force of love and lust combined.

“Is this what you want, I won't be able to stop once we start.” Klaha warned. Annoyed by the question Jasmine placed his lips back on Klaha's own. Off course this was what he wanted, why did Klaha even have to ask?

Kissing him was nothing like Jasmine had imagined, he expected gentle and tender kisses, like the way Klaha always touched him, a tender gentleness that would caress him like a warm summer wind. What he was getting through was rough, fiery passion built up from weeks of sexual tensions. Or was Klaha always like this, the freedom and intimacy revealing his true self at last?

Klaha's hand reached under his thigh, lifting his leg up as the slit up the leg of the dress allowed the material to pull away. Jasmine gasped in pleasured delight as Klaha's leg slipped beneath his own, pinning his thigh high up against Klaha's hip. He wouldn't be able to stay like this, not without Klaha's support, but right now he was managing fine. This new position brought Klaha's crotch closer to his own, the Witch's desire for him obvious and unhidden. Yet still they kissed, lost in this moment when it was just the two of them, desperately entwined against each other.

“I'm sorry, I got carried away.” Klaha apologised as he pulled back. He looked ashamed at just how out of control things had gotten, all Jasmine cared about was the bulge of Klaha's crotch. He'd got Klaha's intentions down perfectly now, he had tasted the passion that hid beneath the surface. Passion Klaha struggled to keep under control. All it would take was one small gesture from himself, a small sign that this couldn't stop. That he wanted to go further and he didn't care how out of control Klaha was in the bedroom.

The dress fell to the floor and Klaha was on him again. If anything even more desperate than before. He wasn't content with just kissing now, his hands wandered over any piece of Jasmine's skin that they could touch. A fire that couldn't be put out until it had burned everything in it's path and Jasmine was basking in the warmth.

“Not here.” Klaha gasped, grabbing Jasmine by the hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. The heels fell of Jasmine's feet as he stepped out of them, knowing he would trip and hurt himself otherwise. He fell onto the bed, not because he had been pushed but because it was where he wanted to be, his legs spreading eager for Klaha after he had tossed his underwear to the floor. Watching eager as Klaha stripped away his own clothes and slipped between his legs. Their naked bodies rubbing together as Klaha's mouth moved over Jasmine's own for a moment before his lips found a particularly sensitive spot on Jasmine's neck and he started kissing him there.

With a delighted moan Jasmine took this time to run his hands over Klaha's back, as strong and perfectly formed as the hands that had once healed him. The worries that Klaha didn't like him in the same way were gone now. Klaha's hadn't kissed him because he knew this would happen, knew that he would lose control. Had Klaha been lusting after him from the very first day they had met? Had these portraits just been an excuse to keep him visiting his house?

Lips moved lower, caressing his nipples in turn as dark hair gently landed on his chest. Shutting his eyes Jasmine did what he always did, and allowed Klaha to use his body as he saw fit. Klaha was a witch and an artist and he turned love making into a magical form of art. It wasn't like a spell had been cast, this was the natural magic of two men, very much in love, having sex together for the very first time.

As Klaha kissed him again Jasmine knew that this was it. His last chance to back down. Klaha had kept himself in control so far, but that control was about to break. Like opening a dam Jasmine let Klaha's lust rush through him, feeling it tingling every nerve. Surprised he opened is eyes to see Klaha's blissful smile. A finger pushed inside him, wet with lube although there had been no lube present as far as Jasmine was aware. This was Klaha's magic, wrapping around them, a spell cast through their intimacy, caressing them both and locking them together.

Jasmine was used to been taken, but still he couldn't help but notice how easily his body opened up for Klaha. Begging him in, a silent cry that Klaha was helpless to do anything but obey. With a moan of pleasure Jasmine accepted his friend inside him, the tingling growing inside him as the pleasure built between them. He was feeding this passionate flame as much as Klaha himself. Like a third unseen entity in the room that brought pleasure to them both. He welcomed it and the pleasure inside him grew and grew. This was sex, it was magic and it was art.

Shutting his eyes the colours of their love greeted him. A marble effect of passionate red, loving pinks, innocent white and a gentle green of nature itself. For this was a natural act, no matter what some people might say. Safe in that knowledge Jasmine let himself go, his orgasm shared with Klaha but not weakened in the slightest. It sent the older man over the edge too, and he rode Klaha's orgasm just like his lover had just rode his own.

Even now the magic remained, faint but warm, wrapping over the two men as they lay in each others arms. Unable to speak, and unwilling. To speak would break this spell. They didn't need words to communicate, everything that needed to be said could be read through the smiles on both of their faces. This time when they kissed it was the gentle caress Jasmine had always imagined it would be. The passion hidden behind the surface once more, but in a day or two Jasmine promised himself, he'd drag out that passion once more.


End file.
